


The Six Outcasts

by rVoiDreamer



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Use, Fake AH Crew, GTA!AU, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Multi, Self-Harm, Triggers, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rVoiDreamer/pseuds/rVoiDreamer
Summary: Life sucked. People wouldn’t think twice on stabbing others in the back and leaving. No one will help even if he asked for help. Beatings from family members, verbal abuse from loved ones, being born into poverty and being blamed for something that he couldn’t control, losing his place in the world, feeling like there wasn’t a place where he could belong, and having to fend for himself since childhood, nothing was on his side. No one to go to, no one to support him, no one to tell him that it would be ok, no one to tell him that life would get better, no one to help him when he was in trouble. . .no one was there in his dark world no matter how much he screamed for help. So instead of letting life destroy him, he decided to destroy everything that life would throw at him.





	1. Kingpin

“Kingpin.” Everyone has heard of that name before; his heists, his strategies, his successes, everything that was there to know about him. Well, everything except his past that is. . .

 

It all started in the summer of 1975, when he was brought into the beautiful yet cruel world. His parents named him Geoff Lazer Ramsey; the name Geoff coming from the Yiddish form of Geoffrey meaning “peace” and Lazer coming from the Yiddish form of Eliezer meaning “my God is help.” They had named him that in hopes that he would be their ideal child; a good student, obedient, and caring without fault. Of course, as he grew older, he became less and less like their ideal child. He soon became a rebellious teenager, getting into fights, skipping classes, drinking, and breaking curfews. Sometimes he would come home drunk in the early hours of the day, knocking into tables and breaking his mother’s prized vases and china. The more and more that continued, the more and more his parents became unhappy; soon his father started to raise his hands against him and his mother began to not acknowledge his existence. As time passed, his father’s violent outbursts and abuse increased and his mother’s neglect developed into denial; one that she carried around a boy doll, calling it “Geoff”, escaping from reality and living in the world that she had wanted for her now broken family. Geoff dealt with it all as best he could; sometimes even fighting back whenever his father had one of his many outbursts. He did end up becoming a bruised and bloody mess on worse nights, so soon enough, he left home and lived with the group of people he considered friends at the time.

 

After leaving home, he attended school whenever he wanted, not bothering to do anything school related. Continuing that for four long years, he thought he wouldn’t be able to graduate, but somehow, he had managed and graduated with his class. After that, he became a street rat, breaking laws and sleeping around, never having a place he stayed at for a long period of time. He considered it a profession, earning money and selling whatever he needed to sell to survive. At least until his “friends” backstabbed him and left him for dead after attempting to take his life. The male laid in the damp, mold ridden alleyway, his lower back bleeding heavily with no sign of help coming.

 

‘Fuck. . .Dying this way sucks,’ he thought bitterly, laughing softly. He gave a sigh and closed his eyes, seeing his life play in the darkness. One by one, he watched the life he had lived in silence, feeling a hole open inside him. Was this the way he had wanted to live? Was this how he wanted to end? Having achieved nothing? Geoff grit his teeth, opening his eyes, a sudden anger and hatred against the world coursing through him. He looked up, seeing the end of the alley and the lit streets.

 

‘I don’t want to end like this in this fucked up world. I’m not done living yet. I haven’t had my revenge against this world.’

 

The male slowly got up, ignoring the pain that shot through his still bleeding injury. With a slight stagger, he made his way to the streets, using the wall of the building as support. Step by step, his vision slowly blurry from losing too much blood. One after another, he made his feet move; just a little bit more, just a couple more steps and he would be able to get help. Even if his world was slowly turning black, Geoff knew he was close, closer to the streets than he ever was.

‘Just one more step. . .Just one more,’ he thought as he dragged his leg forward one more step, feeling his body leave the wall he had been using and fall forward. A triumph smirk was on his face as he closed his eyes, his body landing on the concrete ground with a thud and his blood soaked shirt sticking to his skin. Just before the man lost consciousness, all he heard was a scream and a frantic person calling for help, from who, he didn’t know.

 

* * *

 

The next time Geoff woke up, he was staring up at a white, blinding ceiling, the sound of beeping surrounding him and feeling like he had a week’s worth of weed. He groaned and turned his head, wondering where he was before a rush of the smell of medicine invaded his nose. Making a disgusted face at the nauseating smell, the male tried to move, but the bandages that covered his injury pulled on his skin, protesting against his movements.

 

‘Great, I’m bedridden,’ he thought in distaste. With a heavy sigh, he stared helplessly up at the ceiling. A few minutes passed in silence until the door to his room opened, his attention turned toward the person who had come in.

 

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” a female voice said, footsteps coming closer to where he lay and a nurse emerged into his line of sight, “How are you feeling?” The dark haired male glanced at the nurse who had a smile on her face, ‘What a shallow smile…’

 

“I feel like a druggie,” Geoff replied in an almost sarcastic and monotonous tone. Somehow his comment made the nurse laugh as she checked the monitors and IV that he was connected to. He looked away from what the nurse was doing, thinking, ‘I didn’t think it was that funny.’

 

“Well, we had to give you anesthesia while we stitched up your wound on your lower back and to make sure you wouldn’t feel too much pain afterward,” the female responded with a laugh. She noted down everything that she had checked before she looked over at her patient, “You can be discharged in a couple of days. We just want to make sure your vitals before we release you and you can remove the stitches yourself within three to six weeks. All you have to do is cut one end and pull the string gently and it’ll come right out.”

 

Geoff listened to the nurse absentmindedly before glancing over at her after she stopped talking. He asked in curiosity, “How long was I unconscious?”

 

“Four days, sir. You were asleep for four days.” With that, the nurse left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving the male with his thoughts. What was he going to do from now on after being discharged? Go home? He shook his head at the idea, not wanting to deal with his abusive family. He can’t just go back to what he had been doing. He laid there in deep thought until he remembered what he had thought four days ago; the idea of fucking up the world, causing chaos and havoc wherever he went just to rebel against what the world gave him, what life gave him. A wide smile formed on his face at the thought, his eyes filling with a newly found goal in life.

 

“Time to fuck shit up.”

* * *

 

Within the next few days, he was discharged from the hospital with a flame residing deep in his eyes as he walked home to start his new life away from the people who had fucked him over. This time, he would be the destroyer and no one will be able to stop him.


	2. The Vagabond

“The Vagabond.” The most feared name in Los Santos. No one knew where he had come from, how he ended up in where he was, or how to even contact him. He just appeared out of nowhere one day and stayed, making a name for himself whether it was intentional or not. It wouldn’t be surprising if anyone passed by him during the day and not know him to be “The Vagabond.” Why? Because no matter where he was, he was always seen wearing a black skull mask with a black and blue leather jacket and jeans; not even talking when crews would hire him. There were even rumours that he could wipe out a while crew with ease, but that isn’t important. What’s important is how he came to be where he is today, and who he came to be. . .

 

Winter of 1980, James Ryan Haywood was born in Georgia. His parents were excited when he was born, showering him in their love and affection when he was still a baby. As he grew, he was raised in a loving family, a smile always on his face as he made the most out of his small, immature body. The older he got, the more he preferred to be called “Ryan” instead of his real name “James”. The reason? He didn’t particularly have one, it just sounded right to him and he was happier that way. But of course, the day would come when everything would fall apart.

 

Around the age of 13, his parents started to argue and fight; day and night, all he heard around the house was his parents yelling at each other. Some days, Ryan could hear things break and being knocked over as they fought; frightening him as a young boy. During those times, he would shut himself in his room, covering his ears to try and block out all the arguing.

 

At school, he would be the odd one out; the quiet one, the weird one just because he was the different one compared to everyone else. His classmates would talk about him behind his back, calling him “faggot” whenever he would reject a girl who had confessed to him, taking his stuff and hiding it from him. On bad days, he would find thumbtacks on his chair or his notes would be ripped apart or burned to the point where he wouldn’t be able to use them to study. His locker would be littered in messages that he didn’t want; occasionally it would be covered in rotten food or feces. No matter what happened, he kept to his silence and cleaned whatever he would salvage from his damaged things.

 

His parents divorced when he was 15; his mother gaining custody over him. At his age, he knew he should’ve cared for it more, that it should’ve bothered him more than it did; but he saw it coming. And because the male saw the divorce coming and he knew he couldn’t do anything to stop it, so when the time came, he felt nothing, silently accepting the inevitable. His mother packed her bags and Ryan packed his own, leaving his father in the big, now empty house to live alone while he and his mother left to live with his grandparents for the time being. He would go visit his father every other weekend, but every time he went, his father was either drinking or sleeping, resulting in him taking care of his father instead of the other way around. For years, Ryan continued to care for his father while going back and forth between his mother and father. Then suddenly, his mother told him she was going to remarry to another guy; that too, he kept silent to. He watched his mother remarry and his father slowly waste his life away until one day, he died of alcohol poisoning. Nothing filled his body with the death of his father; not sorrow, not regret, nothing. He was just. . .empty. During his funeral, Ryan didn’t shed a tear, not even after he was left alone, not a single tear rolled down his face. He had become numb to everything around him. At least now, he can stay at his mother’s house without moving until he graduated high school.

 

His four years in high school went by quickly; even if he didn’t have people he would call friends, the hell was over. He could now move out and live on his own without any trouble. He wouldn’t be a bother to his mother and her new family, a place that he hadn’t felt to be home. Ryan chose a university far from home, knowing full well that he had no place in the new family. He was ok with that, he was not related to any of them and he was eccentric in their eyes, so he was ok with that. The least he could hope for was his mother’s happiness as he left his home state and went to university for another four years.

 

* * *

 

 

His life in university was what he had always hoped for; freedom, excitement, passion, everything. It had always been something he had dreamed of, a place where he can be free and not restrained by anything but his own will. He was able to make friends, and this time, he went into relationships; though none of them seemed to work. Every relationship he went into, they would always dump him and say, “Why did you date me when all you can give me is false hope and false love?”

 

But Ryan loved them, he held them precious to his heart, more than he ever did to anyone, even more than his family. He didn’t understand why they had said that, he wondered and wondered about it until one day, he realized something he wished he hadn’t. The experience he had while growing up as the odd one was a sort of trauma for him, not wanting to go through it again. Due to that fear, he kept his preferences a secret. Making sure no one found out about it and continuing to live the way he did.

 

At least until he had made a fatal mistake of getting drunk at a party and kissing someone of the same sex. Even if he was drunk, it was not a reason to do such a thing and ruin his own life. The incident spread across the school like wildfire, causing the male to lose the reputation he had worked so hard to get and the group of friends he had. Everything seemed to go back to his childhood and teenage years, the name calling and bullying starting up again; the years that he didn’t want to come back to haunt him again.

 

* * *

 

 

Another few years passed, it was time for Ryan to graduate university and become a full fledged worker of society. He had lost everything during his time studying what he had always wanted to study, and now he was going to become a society member, but he wasn’t excited about it; not like how he had been excited to enter university and live his life to the fullest. His whole life had been miserable; always alone, always the odd one, always the outcast. He was starting to get tired of being treated like he was the freak in the world. In the last few years of university, he started to resent the world, just as he had when he was younger, but this time, on a larger scale. He wanted to destroy the world. He wanted to be the reason that cities were burning to the ground, be the one to destroy the peace that society had falsely created, be the one to break people just like they had done to him.

 

And he did just that. Ryan graduated university, paying off the remainder of his tuition with the money he had earned, packed everything he owned and left the city. He was going to start over in a new place, a new city that he had never been to.

 

Taking on a new identity in the dark of the night, his skull mask bringing fear into his enemies’, his black and blue leather jacket followed by his silence creating an aura of intimidation left many shaking in fright. He would be called the “Reaper” by most, but to him, he was. . .

 

“The Vagabond.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this one as well!
> 
> I would also like to apologize if the time span that I post the chapters are irregular. I will try to post each chapter as soon as I can!


	3. Beardo

“Beardo.” The best getaway driver. The best pilot. The one nearly every crew is dying to hire for his skills as a driver. Everyone wants to have him in their crew for his skills, but no one has been successful in recruiting him into the crew. He’s a freelancer, not bound by any crew or law. Many questioned it when he suddenly came to the city and became the best getaway driver. He made a name for himself within the first week of arriving, but how he learned the skills he had, no one knew.

 

The month of January in 1982, Jack Shannon Pattillo was born into the world, welcomed by snow and the cold air of winter. Even though the world around him was grey when he was born, but to his parents, the world was vibrant and animated. To them, nothing compared to having a beautiful newborn son in their family of two, now three. Everything was perfect for them, their son beautiful and the parents were a loving couple. If only that ideal image stayed that way in Jack’s mind.

 

Jack grew up healthy, loving to play outside and meeting new people, but most of all, he loved all the animals that his family and friends owned. Nothing ever seemed to stop the ginger from socializing with those around him. His socialization just didn’t stop within his friends and family; it reached out to the strangers that he would see at stores, or even people who sat on the bench waiting for someone to come and pick them up. He would even share his treats and snacks whenever he would see the homeless or other children his age, and that included his most favourite snacks and treats.

 

As the years passed, the mindset of the ginger slowly started to change. Unlike his younger self, who felt that he could fit in and belong anywhere he went as long as he socialized and broadened his horizons, he felt like he had no place to belong, like the world was completely against him; it didn’t matter where he was, whether it be at home or at school, his existence just didn’t seem to fit anywhere. Slowly but surely, he became a mere existence in a short yet long life that had no purpose and no place to be, just like an unwanted doll. His world seemed to dull, the things he had enjoyed doing before wasn’t as enjoyable, his former social life diminished and the place he had considered home wasn’t a home anymore. His world had completely turned into a dark place by the time he was 14.

 

High school was hell for Jack, nothing was interesting and everything he tried to do, it never entertained him long enough for him to continue doing it. He even found his friends boring to talk to since all they talked about was the same thing over and over again. But he endured it all, forcing himself to feel like he belonged in the group and trying to get by each and every day without any incident.

 

* * *

 

 

Without incident, he graduated school and immediately went into the workforce. He did think it would be better to go to college and get a degree, but seeing how his four years in high school was, he didn’t want to suffer through it for another four years. Jack never stayed at one workplace for too long; switching from one to another one by one without thought. Staying in one place just didn’t seem to suit him, though it was an addition to not feeling like he belonged anywhere in the world. Bit by bit, he started to put his hands in drug dealing while keeping his identity a secret and by going with the alias “Beardo”. Though it was still dull, he felt a sort of thrill from it; having to hide from the public eye and sell drugs, planning to get away from the location without getting caught. To him, driving away from the location was the most thrilling of it all. Adrenaline would pump through his veins each and every time he would do it; it was even better if they were being chased. That was when he realized he didn’t belong in a world of peace, he finally realized where he belonged.

 

A couple more years passed as he continued to drug deal while carrying on his regular part time jobs. On a certain, chilling, autumn day, the group he had been drug dealing with had been caught red handed and arrested for the possession of drugs and selling them. Luckily, Jack had been working his shift when that had happened, allowing him to evade the arrest and continue on with the falsely created peaceful life he had created for himself. But of course, the group he had been around tended to drag people down with them; making the ginger slightly anxious but mainly thrilled at the chase he would be put into. Right after his shift ended, he immediately went home, packed his bags and left his apartment. As much as he loved the thrill of being chased, he wasn’t stupid enough to stay in the city and rot away in a jail cell without experiencing the real thrill of being a criminal.

 

City after city, he created chaos within the drug dealing business, slowly making a name for himself as the getaway driver in each city, especially Liberty City. His skills as a driver slowly but surely developed, almost matching that of a professional race car driver. His alias “Beardo” spread like wildfire, earning him jobs from left and right for heists and invitations to join crews. He became the most wanted getaway driver for years, every crew out to get him to join their crew, even if it was just for one heist. It wasn’t a surprise when leaders came to him, nearly begging on their knees to join their crew, which he politely declined by the way, due to the fact that he didn’t want to be bound. He liked being hired for a short amount of time and being set free with his own share of the money. He liked being a freelancer.

 

No matter where he went, he made sure to enter drag races, winning each and every time, one after another and winning the title as the best driver in all of the drag race history. He wasn’t going to deny the fact that he was proud of the achievement, but it was starting to get dull and boring for him too. No one seemed up to par with his skills and it was tiring and boring to try and meet their requirements and level without going all out on his part.

 

And to top it off, the criminals in Liberty City weren’t as big as they claimed to be. The ginger saw them as cowards, wild pigs that didn’t think things through; which got him nearly killed on multiple occasions. Even if he was a hired man, he was still in constant danger because of the cowardly idiots that never planned. It also didn’t help that the criminals would stab each other’s backs without a second thought if it didn’t go their way. So he decided to leave. Leave the stupid hellhole, at the time, for a better place; for a more infamous and reckless place that he had always been keeping his eye on. It seemed that everything was getting interesting over there, so just like he had done last time; he packed his bags and left Liberty City for the infamous city of crime, Los Santos.


	4. Mogar

“Mogar.” The wild beast that cannot be tamed, a warrior stuck in the modern world, the man who known for his explosives and how he executes each and every plan with his creations. Rumours said that the male was raised in the wild and taught to be the demolition expert that he is by the world’s most renowned expert of all times. Another set stated that he had self taught himself how to create and dispose of bombs since childhood, becoming a prodigy in the world of demolition as he grew older and experimented more. Not that that was completely wrong, but what idiot would tell the whole world of his past? Especially in the city of crime? No one. And to him, he found the rumours to be hilarious so he let them spread across the land, just so his name will be known in the city and he would become infamous while his past was a mystery to everyone excluding himself.

 

In the humidity of July’s summer in 1987, Michael Vincent Jones was born into a family of two. His parents were grateful to God for giving them such a beautiful gift; but that didn’t last when the house was broken into when he was 2, the burglar killing his parents after they had hidden him in a safe place. Hours passed while he continued to wait for his parents to come and tell him it was ok to come out, even though he had watched his parents murdered by the hands of a stranger. Because of his young age, he still didn’t know that his parents would never wake up like they had done every day. He stayed where he was until a group of police officers found him in the small room days later with the corpses of his rotting his parents. 

 

Michael was put into an orphanage after a couple of days spent in the hospital to make sure he was healthy and stable. Day after day, he wondered why his parents never came to pick him up; resulting in him running away from the orphanage to find his home and look for his parents. Maybe it was because he was still young or because he felt like his parents just abandoned him as their love for him disappearing the more he grew. As he looked and looked for the place he had called home, he had become lost, not knowing where he was or where to go. In the dark of the dimly lit night, he called out to his parents, tears starting to stream down his face as he brought his hands up to wipe away the tears. Over and over, he called for his parents, but receiving nothing in return.

 

* * *

 

The male walked the crowded streets, his hands in his pockets and eyeing each and every person passing by, even those that stood there waiting or just on their phones, to see if he would be able to find something to keep him alive for the day. He was already 17, basically homeless after leaving the place that he grew up in after the death of his parents, but still managing to keep himself alive in the city that he despised and wanted to leave. His clothes were ragged and dirty, his unruly curls that sat atop his head pushed down and hidden by the beanie he wore in the slightly cold weather. His eyes darted left and right, scanning the crowd before taking action and pick pocketing a businessman of his wallet, continuing to walk casually as to not raise suspicion. When he knew he was a fair distance away from the crime scene, he veered into an abandoned alley and looked into the wallet, taking out the cash that was stored there and throwing the now useless wallet onto the muddy ground and walking out of the alley to continue the same routine to survive. 

 

Unbeknownst to the closest friend he had, Michael would gather any useful item to create an explosive. It was a way to pass the boredom for him, scavenging for anything that might aid him to create his masterpiece and finding an empty place to try the creation out. Yea, sometimes he would screw up the process and his life would be in danger with the explosions, but that never stopped him to continue his experimentation. The more he made, the better his explosives got; sometimes being requested by amateur gangs to make explosives for them and their small heist to start up their crew. Of course he would accept, he got money from it; but what Michael didn’t know was the fact that his name spread across many cities that were run by gangs, the name “Mogar” given to him the more widespread his explosives became. Eventually, he was asked by his closest friend, Ray, if he made explosives; to which he had responded with a “Yea, I make the booms for people.” 

 

He had met Ray, the best sniper known to anyone in the world of crime, during a small chase he had when he had pick pocketed the wrong person. It wasn’t exactly small considering the guy chasing him was a gang member, a well known one at that, and was threatening to kill him once he was caught up to the ginger. Just as he was starting to run out of fuel from trying to evade the guy, the sniper had, without hesitation, killed the gang member and saved his life. Ray had made his way down the ladder and stood in front of Michael in silence before walking past him to make sure his target had been killed, to which he had found out later was Ray’s job during that time to assassinate the member. An out-of-breath Michael stared at the sniper in awe before thanking him for saving his life, though Ray had just shrugged and told him to not worry about it before turning to the ginger and staring at him. 

 

“You’re Mogar, aren’t you? The genius explosives expert?”

 

Michael blinked in surprise at the sudden question, scanning the male in front of him and seeing the hot pink sniper rifle slung over the sniper’s shoulder and getting the sudden realization of who he was standing in front of.

 

“Holy shit. You’re BrownMan.”

 

Ray, again, shrugged, replying in the most nonchalant way possible. “I’m brown, aren’t I?”

 

“Jesus Christ, man. Yea. . .yea,” Michael said almost hastily, “I’m Mogar. How’d you recognize a nobody like me anyway?”

 

The sniper just laughed and grinned at him, “Nobody? Dude, you live under a rock. Your name is sprayed everywhere in town. Nobody my ass.”

 

“What do you mean my name is sprayed all over town? I’m sure I haven’t done much with my explosives,” the ginger replied with a frown on his face. He was genuinely confused as the what the infamous sniper was talking about. The name “Mogar”, in his mind, wasn’t all that infamous. At least not like BrownMan and Vagabond. 

 

Ray shook his head at the question and turned to leave, “You’ll find out soon enough. I’ll catch you later, Mogar.”  With that, the sniper left, leaving a confused Michael behind.

  
To the expert, he thought Ray was a dick for not fully explaining himself, but just like he said, he found out within the next few days what he had meant. Suddenly he heard his name being whispered and gossiped about, an influx of requests for his explosives with the addition of money skyrocketed and soon he was feared by civilians for the destruction he could and would cause with his creations. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Sorry for the late chapter, but here's the 4th chapter to this story!  
> I hope you enjoyed it and please feel free to give me advice as to how I can improve my writing!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> This is my second fanfic in this fandom!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! I would definitely appreciate any advice to make my writing better!
> 
> The next chapter will be up soon, hopefully! :')


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